


scream and kick up the dust

by orphan_account



Series: ghosts in your bones [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Ghosts, Hauntings, Jaime is so fucked
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 06:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2219613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime had collapsed from sheer exhaustion twice in the past week and he could feel another faint coming along.</p>
<p>Nothing felt especially real.</p>
<p>Nothing but the Mad King, with his mad eyes and matted hair and overgrown fingernails and mottled skin. Nothing but him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	scream and kick up the dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).



> This one is gifted to Tommyginger after our conversation in the comments of doesn't matter now it's done, spawning the idea of Aerys haunting Jaime. Thank you, lovely! I hope you all enjoy, please review/give kudos if you do!

Jaime blinked heavily.

Or maybe he slept for a second. He hoped so, he would have prayed for sleep, if he prayed at all. But there were no gods, and they were certainly not just.

Otherwise he would not be hounded by the tyrant he had helped dethrone.

"Boy!" Aerys snapped from his chair, in his high, grating voice "More food! I'm famished!" He then had the gall to snap his fingers sloppily, his long, sharpened fingernails impeding him and clacking together, the sound reverberating inside Jaime's head.

He never left. Not even for a second.

Jaime had collapsed from sheer exhaustion twice in the past week and he could feel another faint coming along.

Nothing felt especially real.

Nothing but the Mad King, with his mad eyes and matted hair and overgrown fingernails and mottled skin. Nothing but him.

He almost couldn't remember a mere week ago and all his life before that, before his haunting had begun. As if it had always been him and Aerys and this abandoned holdfast in the damnable North he had been shuffled into, because no one could bear the Mad King in the next life any more than they could in his first, and therefore Jaime had to leave too. Alone, alone, alone.

But not, in the worst way.

Jaime would prefer solitude.

Would prefer anything to this, to the Mad King again. Jaime thought he had escaped fourteen years before, he thought-

Jaime could feel the madness approaching him now, and he wondered if it was catching.

"Food!" The last Targaryen king howled again, his voice irritating every part of Jaime's being "I said I want food, boy-"

With a roar Jaime lept at the specter, his hands outstretched and aiming for the man's translucent throat, just imagining the sweetness of killing him once more.

Of seeing his unnatural eyes bulge out of his skull and his skin purple to match his strange irises, of feeling his pulse slow and stop beneath his fingers. He could still remember the last time like it were yesterday. Just once more. It was so easy the first time. So easy, too easy.

( _KINGS SHOULD DIE **HARDER** THAN THIS_)

His grasping hands never connected. They never did.

The lion of Lannister roared in anguish, as the Kingslayer failed to live up to his reputation. He crumbled to the floor and panted there, exhaustion set deep in his bones. "Silly boy," the Mad King tutted, but his words were half a shriek and half a giggle, like a child who knows some secret you don't "you cannot kill a dragon."

"You are no dragon," Jaime shouts, the words grinding against his throat, the volume dying suddenly and reducing his voice to a whisper "you never were a dragon." He continues, regardless.

"Careful, my boy," Aerys taunts "show respect to your king."

"You are no king and I am not yours." He feels like crying. He wants the ghosts gone. He must be the only one.

Mother had appeared at Casterly Rock and Father hadn't left her side since, Tyrion was asking every single one they came across what the other side was like, and noting it all down like it were a game. Cersei - Cersei wanted them gone like him, but they were the same. They were one. Jaime wanted Cersei, but she couldn't stand the Mad King. Who could?

Jaime was Cersei's, as she was his. She had been once, at least.

"Your cloak says different." Aerys continues, oblivious and uncaring of Jaime's internal monologue.

"I was never yours." Jaime growls, staggering to his feet "I killed you. You died. I killed you."

The Mad King smirks then, all rotten teeth and flat eyes, and strokes one of his lengthy nails down Jaime's cheek. He can feel the echo of it - there is no pain, but there is revulsion, a sense of a stain he can't wash off.

"Did you?"

Jaime isn't so sure anymore.


End file.
